


Toys

by IrishWitch58



Series: Classified Kitten [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: The adventures of JB the kitten continue with the workers of Q branch drawing their own conclusions.





	Toys

**Author's Note:**

> Catnip bubbles are awesome and tentacle dildos exist. https://bad-dragon.com/products/tako Both appear in this fic.

Hanson generally arrived a few minutes early. He felt it set a good example and gave him a jump on any potential problems. He began his shift as he always did. He was read in on whatever operations were ongoing or planned. He usually did this while having his first cup of coffee. He would then sit down and and look at the staff list. A percentage of technicians already had ongoing work but those with complete projects or ones nearing completion would be assigned something new. The shift staff trickled in a few at a time over the next five minutes after Hanson had received his report. He watched as they settled at their stations, trading places with their coworkers leaving after the overnight tour. 

Hanson had been working for perhaps forty minutes when his office line rang. The voice on the other end was the supply manager. “Mr. Hanson. There is an order for delivery, #20275D, a sofa in heather tweed.”

“Oh good. When will it be here?”

“It's here now at the loading dock. We'd just like to arrange final delivery. Would it be convenient now?”

Hanson glanced up at his department head's private office. Q was not in so this was ideal timing. “Please have it here as soon as possible. I'll have someone clear your men in and help set up.” Hanson disconnected the call. “Trent. Come here please.”

Trent had been getting some tea. He crossed the floor, mug in hand. “Yes, Mr. Hanson?”

“Trent, the new sofa for the Boss's office is on the way down from the loading dock. Please see the supply men in and and assist as needed. They're to remove the damaged sofa as well.”

Trent glanced a bit twitchily at the office door but seeing it open and unoccupied, he nodded agreeably and headed off on his errand. He returned in twenty minutes with two muscled delivery men with the replacement sofa on a dolly between them. Hanson watched as the Trent directed the men inside the office. Within a half hour, the dilapidated much abused sofa was on the dolly and being wheeled out to the lift with Trent following to pass the men out through security. Hanson checked the sofa replacement off on his list of tasks and went back to his current project. He was a bit puzzled when Trent waved at him in an unmistakable 'come here' gesture. Hanson walked over and stood in the doorway of the office. 

There was the new sofa, tidy and precisely in place. But the office itself... “I suppose I should clean it up, Mr. Hanson. I'm just not sure where to begin. Most of this was under or in the old sofa.” The floor was littered with small oddments and a variety of books and papers that were now seeing the light of day again, or at any rate, the glow of the energy efficient office lights. 

Hanson gave the matter due consideration. “Best rough sort it and let the Boss decide. I wouldn't want to accidentally throw out something he felt was important.”

Trent nodded and went to the supply cupboard, returning with three of the baskets commonly used as in boxes for the inevitable memos that seemed to defy Q's edicts to move to a paperless system. He diligently labeled them, Hardware, Books/Papers, and Miscellaneous. 

It took a good hour of sorting to get everything in place, there being an inordinate amount of cloth mice in assorted colours, plastic balls with bells in them, and small shiny balls of crinkly foil. There were also innumerable screws, bolts, small wiring caps and bottle lids. He had left the paper goods for last, carefully examining each before stacking them by size, largest on the bottom. He was almost done when he floundered. Surely he wasn't reading it correctly. He eyed the cover resentfully, but it stubbornly refused to turn into a journal. Attack of the Martian Sex Squids was emblazoned in lurid lettering with a depiction of a hideous creature with multiple arms, some of which were wrapped around and, in one case, IN, a male figure who was open mouthed in horror or ecstasy. It was rather difficult to say which. Trent put it down with the care reserved for disposal of explosives and backed slowly away. He walked to the coffee counter and poured a cup, forgot to add sugar and grimaced at the taste. He then added too much and just stared at his mug sadly. 

Hanson appeared at his elbow. “All sorted out, Trent? What's the matter? You look quite ill.”

Trent returned to his own station, Hanson following. He sat down and stared at the top of his desk. “Mr. Hanson. I saw a book in there, some sort of mix of horror and pornography. It was hideous.”

Hanson sighed and gave Trent a pat on the shoulder he hoped was reassuring. “Now Trent. You do know that this branch has concealed coded information in all kinds of unlikely things. Why that might even predate the present Boss if it was stuck in that old sofa. The darned thing survived the destruction at the old HQ.”

Trent didn't seem exactly convinced but there was no time to worry about that. At that moment, Q strode in, followed by 007 and the cat carrier. Q surveyed the large board, noting the mission status updates, and nodded to Hanson before he and Bond disappeared into the office, the door closing firmly behind them.

“Well,” said Bond with a satisfied air, “the new sofa is finally here.” He set the cat carrier down and tested out the furniture.”It's comfortable anyway.” he bounced experimentally. “Seems sturdy too.”

Q grinned, used to Bond's innuendo by now. “Just let JB out while I set up the new gadget.” He produced a box that proclaimed it was an automatic bubble blower. He placed it on the counter behind his desk and filled it from a bottle and plugged it in. He stowed the bottle in a lockable cabinet and sat back on to watch the fun. JB emerged from his temporary prison, shook himself and wandered about a bit before noticing the bubbles. He sat down and studied them as they floated around and popped in various places. Eventually one floated near him and he batted at it, sneezing when it popped and then chasing after the next spate of them out of the machine. “That'll keep him occupied for a bit. Catnip bubbles.” He stood up and paused at his desk, hands on hips. He frowned at the boxes. “I would guess this was all under the old sofa.” He picked through the one labeled Miscellaneous. “This is all JB's stuff. I had no idea how many toys he's lost.” Q picked that basket up and stowed it in the same cupboard as the bubbles. The one labeled Hardware he shifted to the bench at the back of the office where he did his tinkering. He turned his attention to the last one. “James, what the hell have you been reading?” he asked, laughing. He tossed the book at Bond where he was now lounging across the sofa, ankles propped on one armrest. 

Bond caught the book and turned it over in his hands. “I'll have you know this is quality trash. Look. It even has reviewers notes. 'Alien erotica at it's finest', and 'the next Chuck Tingle'.” He turned the paperback around again and studied the front cover. “Give you any ideas?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Q and leered comically.

“It gives me the idea you've been concussed one too many times.” He sidestepped JB who was apparently having an attack of kitten insanity and trashed most of the rest of the paper, setting the basket on the floor. Sooner or later, the little furball would tire and he oddly favored the baskets as sleeping spots. He was startled when Bond appeared at his elbow, smiling in the way Q knew was a warning. To an enemy of the Crown, it was often their last sight. To Q it was a signal he had better lock the door. He reached for the button on the desk, staring at Bond very deliberately as he did so. 

Bond nodded approval and wrapped his arms around Q, drawing him in and kissing him, following up with dragging his tongue around the outside of an ear. “I think I have a few appendages that might fit here and there,” he suggested. 

Q gave a put upon dramatic sigh. “I suppose we do need to thoroughly test the quality of the sofa.”

Trent noted the locked indicator on the Boss's office come on and shuddered. Sure enough, after several minutes there were a series of thumps and groans. Bond's voice raised in a warning tone, “Q, mind where you put that!” and Q's voice a bit later, “James, don't you dare.” Trent was, unfortunately, the only person who appeared bothered by it all. The rest of the staff continued to work and Hanson gave him a quelling look when he pointed to the door. Of course the noise quieted down after a bit. After about twenty minutes, the light indicated the lock was disengaged. The door opened and Q emerged and headed for the coffee and tea counter. He prepared his own tea and a second mug with coffee. He headed back to his office, pausing to say something to Hanson. Hanson replied and nodded at Trent. As the Boss approached, Trent's stomach dropped. 

“Trent. I'm told you took the initiative to clean up after the delivery. Well done.” He turned and reentered his office. When the door opened briefly, Trent could see Bond seated on the new sofa, one ankle over the opposite knee and reading something. The door wasn't open long as Q did a deft shift of an ankle to deter the kitten exiting and closed it firmly. 

Trent's imagination supplied the details as they usually did. Hanson approached his desk when he noticed that Trent was sitting motionless. “What is the matter, Trent? The Boss was pleased with your work.”

“Yes, but those noises again.” 

“Please stop making mountains out of molehills Trent. No doubt he wanted the sofa shifted a bit to suit him and asked the agent to assist. I would guess neither of them are used to moving furniture.” Hanson nodded, satisfied with his own explanation and returned to his desk. Trent reluctantly opened his own queue and settled in. He didn't bother to argue that the sofa was still in the exact same place where the workmen had originally placed it. 

Q silently handed Bond his coffee and took his tea to his own desk. JB trailed after him and discovered the basket. He sniffed it, poked at a corner with one fluffy foot and curled up in it. Q reached back and switched the bubble generator off. “Well the bubbles were a success. He's exhausted.” He smiled fondly at the little sleeper, feet twitching and whiskers quivering as he dreamed.

“Q come have a look at this,” Bond said, gesturing with the tablet he was using. Typically it was one of Q's personal ones. 

Q sat down and was happy he had done so. The image on the tablet was horrifying. It depicted a sex toy that looked like an extended tentacle, complete with suckers in two toned silicone. He shuddered. “That's awful! Who in the world would even think to market something like that?” Bond just smiled and pointed at the screen as Q peered closer, adjusting his glasses. “Order two. One medium, one large, in blue and that awful purple. And let me get back to work.” He gave Bond a kiss and stood to move back to his desk, listening to his lover chuckle as he ordered. Tentacles indeed.


End file.
